


Out of Time

by Siriusfan13



Series: Out of Time [1]
Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfan13/pseuds/Siriusfan13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a trip to Kyoto with his friends, Himura Kenshin winds up in deep water... thirteen years in the past. How will Kenshin deal with the Revolution again? And how will his friends deal with Battousai, who has traded places with him? R&R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deep Water

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing Ruroken or Samurai X, but I'm having a lot of fun writing this and pretending I do!

**  
Out of Time    
**

_  
**Chapter 1: Deep Water**   
_

_Kyoto—1865_

The streets were black. What little light the moon provided only served to spread shadows and add to the danger of the night. No one was foolish enough to wander the streets of Kyoto alone, especially after sunset. Unless you were a hitokiri. Or perhaps one of the Shinsengumi. But tonight, a young, dark-haired boy was out. A person would have to have a death wish to wander as he did. This blood-splattered boy did have a death wish. A week ago he'd lost everything. And now, he stood on a bridge, planning on ending the little he had left. Not expecting someone else to be out who had also recently lost everything.

The boy climbed onto the railing and sat there, trying to decide if the fall would kill him. The last one hadn't. At times like this, it didn't pay to have a hard head.

It was several minutes before he heard a soft voice from the shadows. "Are you going to jump or just look at the moon?"

The boy started, almost losing his balance. He reflexively caught himself, and turned to see a teenage boy quietly approach, his face in shadow. The teenager walked onto the bridge and stood beside him. The newcomer wore swords. A samurai then? A hopeful thought struck him. A hitokiri maybe. No. If it were a hitokiri, he'd already be dead.

"Just trying to decide if it's deep enough to drown."

The swordsman didn't look at him, but leaned against the railing. "I'm sure it is. I've come here often lately, thinking the same thing."

The boy watched the quiet young man. It was so peaceful. The two standing on a bridge, watching the moon. He could almost believe there was no revolution. No one out destroying lives.

Except that they were discussing suicide.

"But you're still alive."

"Yes. Someone died to save me. Someone I cared about. And I realize, every time I come here, that death would be too easy. Especially when others have spent their lives to save mine." The swordsman paused. "It's happened twice now. The first time, I had someone to help me through it. This time, I'm alone."

The boy watched him talk. It was too dark to make out his features, but he got the impression that this swordsman was different. He could hear the hollowness in the young man's voice. This was someone who understood.

The boy nodded. "Same here. But now that he's dead… I _don't_ have anybody. I'm nothing."

The man sighed. "That may be true. But you're enough to remind me why I have to walk off of this bridge." He looked up at the moon. "They're watching me. I made an oath to them that I would live. I can't break it."

"I made no oath. I have no reason."

"Then maybe you should find your reason. Before you die, find out if there's a reason to live."

The boy seemed to think about it. "Maybe. I guess waiting one more night wouldn't hurt. Maybe the captain would want that." The boy shifted his position to get back off the railing, but he was still off balance from when he'd almost fallen, and this time, when he slipped, he couldn't catch himself.

The swordsman's reaction was instantaneous, but it wasn't quite quick enough to catch the child as he fell. Without thinking, without even dropping his swords, the young man leapt over the rail and dove into the water. He wasn't going to let this boy die. It had been too amazing a feeling to be protecting life for a change instead of taking it.

The water was icy cold, and was a terrible shock to the young man's body. It was winter, and he should have expected the temperature, but he was in such a hurry he hadn't even thought to brace himself. The sudden shock of cold made him gasp, and he inhaled a lot of water. His eyes grew hazy as things started going black.

* * *

 _Kyoto—1878_

Sano shivered as he and Kenshin walked from the small town back to Kyoto. He felt like they'd been walking for hours, and they were only just reaching the bridges at the outskirts of the city. The sooner they got home, the better, as far as he was concerned. It was freezing, and they were crazy to be out now when they could be warm and comfortable in the Aoi-ya. Not that Kenshin had _made_ him come. Sano had just tagged along to get away from Yahiko and Kaoru.

But in spite of the cold, he was starting to think that it was a good thing he _had_ joined the Rurouni. Coming to Kyoto was always hard on Kenshin, but this time it seemed worse. Tonight, Sano had caught him getting pulled into his past for minutes at a time. The ex-hitokiri's eyes would darken, and Sano could see that for a moment here or there, he was traveling with Battousai, not the rurouni. It was creepy, especially since that shouldn't happen to him anymore. The fighter snorted. Yes, it was _definitely_ good that he was the one who'd come. The others would have panicked. Sano seemed to be the only one who really understood that rurouni or hitokiri, Kenshin was always Kenshin. Maybe the revolution tied them together that way. Still, Sano found that keeping Kenshin talking while they traveled helped keep him in the present, and that was easier on his friend. Sano scowled. But it was hard to keep talking when he was so cold. "Kenshin, remind me again why we had to go out _tonight_ to buy stuff?" he griped.

Kenshin, who seemed untouched by the frigid temperature, walked calmly beside him. He smiled up at the tall fighter. "Because I plan on visiting Shishou tomorrow, and the last time I visited, he insisted I bring a souvenir instead of trouble."

Sano's teeth chattered as he tried to snuggle up and get more heat out of his clothes. "Souvenir? Who asks for a souvenir? And who calls sake a souvenir, anyway?"

Kenshin laughed easily. "You don't know Shishou." He sighed, a little smile on his face. "And I guess I can't blame him. No one visits him unless they have a problem."

Sano boxed Kenshin's ears, causing the small redhead to go swirly-eyed for a moment. "News for you Kenshin. Your shishou is antisocial and _chose_ to live that way. It isn't your job to make up for it. And it _definitely_ isn't your job to buy sake four miles out of town, just because Hiko Seijuro likes _that_ sake better than the stuff made in Kyoto."

"But Sano," Kenshin said, in a shaky voice, still staggering a bit from the blow. "It isn't much of a gift to bring something the person doesn't want, that it is not."

"He said souvenir, not gift. Souvenirs are never any good," Sano muttered. He wrapped his clothes around him tighter. "Hey, Kenshin. Aren't you cold?"

The smaller man looked up at him in surprise. "I guess."

"Well, you don't look at it."

Kenshin just shrugged. "I spent a lot of time in Kyoto during the revolution. In my job, I couldn't wear anything heavy that would slow me, so I had to get used to cold winters."

"That was ten years ago, Kenshin. You were just a kid!"

His friend looked amused. "Ten years ago, I was your age, that I was."

Sano blinked at him. He'd never realized that before, but he wasn't going to let Kenshin win that easily. "That's not the point. You were younger back then, so your body could take the cold better."

Kenshin smiled faintly. "So, you're saying I'm old now?"

Sano's glared at him, knowing full well that Kenshin had intentionally misunderstood. "No you're not old," he said through gritted teeth, "but you aren't used to it anymore. You're gonna get sick, and the Fox Lady's gonna blame me."

Kenshin laughed and didn't reply.

They were crossing one of the bridges when the moon finally came out from behind a large cloud and brightened their path.

Sano forgot both the argument and the cold for a moment to stop and stare. "Man, look at that moon. It's really bright tonight." He leaned against the railing and looked out over the water. "You can see for miles." Sano hopped onto the railing to get a better view.

"Get down, Sanosuke. That is dangerous. You could fall in, that you most certainly could. And then _you_ would be the one Megumi-dono has to take care of."

Sano completely ignored him, slowly standing on the rail, and beginning to walk, his arms out for balance. "I remember doing this as a kid. We used to walk bridge rails for kicks when I was really little. You ever do stuff like that?"

"No."

Sano snorted. "Come on, Kenshin. Didn't you ever play or anything? Even before you became Battousai?"

Kenshin ignored the question. "Sano, please get down. I do not like this, that I do not," he said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "You're going to fall." He was tensing up, not sure why. Something was wrong.

Sano laughed. "You worry too much, Kenshin. I'm not going to drown, even if I do fall."

But Kenshin wasn't listening. Something had made him freeze in his tracks. His violet eyes had narrowed and darkened to deep blue as they had each time he'd become deeply lost in thoughts of the past. He remembered this particular bridge, now. The little boy sitting on the rail, while they'd discussed the pros and cons of jumping. And suddenly he remembered how that conversation had ended. "No!" Kenshin shot toward the rail, lost in the past, as once again, he saw the boy fall to his death.

"Kenshin?" Sano's eyes widened as he saw his friend suddenly slip into a memory as he had earlier. But those times had been harmless, and Kenshin had laughed them off. This time, he was about to go over the rail for who knew what reason. Sano tried to twist and grab his friend, but the rail wasn't the greatest place in the world to try to maneuver oneself in the first place. And he hadn't expected Kenshin snap out of it and stop before jumping. By the time Sano realized Kenshin was okay, he had already grabbed his friend's gi. It was too late to stop his own momentum, and Sano wound up falling, dragging a surprised Kenshin over the rail with him into the cold river.

Sano lost his grip on Kenshin when he hit the water. It was so cold, and he could feel his hands and feet already going numb, making it hard to swim back to the surface. So, maybe Kenshin was right. He shouldn't have messed around on the bridge. If the river hadn't been so calm, he probably _would_ have drowned. Sano broke the surface, gasping for air. He tried to wipe the water from his eyes while still treading water, but his legs were numbing. He was going to go back under if he didn't get out soon. Sano looked around. Where was Kenshin? Not in the river by the looks of it. Knowing him, he probably hadn't even felt the cold and just swam to shore. But even as Sano's eyes scanned the land, he knew the rurouni would never have left him. "Kenshin!" He hollered.

Nothing.

"Kenshin! Where are you?"

Finally, a ways away, he heard someone break the surface. Sano turned in relief to see red hair. "Kenshin! Thank god."

He swam over just as the rurouni started slipping under again. He wasn't completely conscious. "Come on, buddy," Sano said, catching his friend's arm and pulling him toward the shore. When they finally reached land, the dark-haired fighter dropped the redhead onto the grass. It didn't seem like Kenshin was breathing. "Damn," Sano swore, realizing that Kenshin had inhaled water. Sano immediately began pressing on his chest, trying to force the water out. "Come on, Kenshin."

Finally, the smaller man sat up, coughing up water. Sano leaned back in relief as his friend began gasping for air. "Don't do that to me. I thought you were dead." He glanced over at the rurouni, and froze.

Kenshin's wet hair was out of its ponytail and spilled out over his dark blue gi and his face. He hadn't looked up at Sano, but was already standing, tense, with his hand on his sword hilt. His second scabbard was empty.

Second scabbard? Sano had the oddest feeling that he shouldn't make any sudden movements. "Kenshin?"

"Who are you?" Kenshin's voice was low and dangerous. Other than his narrowed dark blue eyes, his face was an expressionless mask. "Where is the boy?"

"Ken—"

"I'm not known for patience."

"Since when? Kenshin, what's gotten into you?" He moved to stand.

Kenshin was gone. Sano hadn't even seen him move, but suddenly he felt a blade against the side of his neck, and a low voice saying into his ear, "Don't move. I don't want to kill you, but I _will_ hurt you if you move."

A thin trickle of blood made its way down Sano's neck. That was no sakabatou. It was a regular katana. But Kenshin wouldn't carry that…" His eyes widened, as things started falling into place, making no sense at all. The extra scabbard, the dark gi, the katana… the deadly voice. "Battousai," he whispered, not understanding.

"You know me." His voice was flat. "And you know my name. Who are you?"

"Sagara Sanosuke," Sano replied.

"You aren't one of the Shinsengumi," Battousai said. "And you're no hitokiri." The pressure of the blade finally eased as Battousai moved back into Sano's line of vision, his sword still ready. "Why are you out? Do you _want_ to die?"

Sano rubbed his neck. The cut had already stopped bleeding. Battousai had been making a point, not trying to hurt him. Sano realized that truth was probably the best answer for now. "I was with a friend. We were buying sake."

Battousai's eyes narrowed further. "I am to believe that you would buy sake in Kyoto at _night_? I ask again, do you have a death wish?"

"I can take care of myself," Sano said.

"I could tell. Where is this friend of yours?"

Sano froze, his brown eyes widening. _"Damn, that was right. If this wasn't just Kenshin spacing out… if this was the real Battousai… then where was Kenshin?"_ He turned to look at the river. There wasn't even a ripple.

Battousai seemed to understand Sano's expression. His voice was low, and if Sano hadn't known better, he'd have sworn it sounded a little apologetic. "If he hasn't come out by now, he isn't going to. Neither of them are."

"Neither?"

Battousai shook his head. "Forget it." His eyes hardened again. "You shouldn't have seen me. I need to report this. Go home before you get yourself killed." He finally sheathed his sword.

"Kenshin?"

Battousai tensed at the sound of his name and stopped but didn't turn back.

Sano took that as an invitation to finish. He closed his eyes and jumped in, hoping Battousai wouldn't kill him. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

"Kyoto." The voice was flat.

"Do you know _when_?"

"I would suggest seeing a doctor, Sagara Sanosuke," he replied before walking toward the city.

Sano watched him for a moment. Then looked back toward the water, hoping that somehow Kenshin was okay. The fighter sighed, and stood, muttering, "I _must_ have a death wish," before following Battousai.


	2. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a trip to Kyoto with his friends, Himura Kenshin winds up in deep water... thirteen years in the past. How will Kenshin deal with the Revolution again? And how will his friends deal with Battousai, who has traded places with him? R&R!

_  
**Chapter 2: Realization**   
_

_1865_

Kenshin broke the surface of the water, coughing. He quickly looked around for Sanosuke, and when he saw that his friend wasn't above water, immediately began to worry. This was cold even for him, and Sano had been freezing just in the open air. Kenshin dived under and tried to look for his friend, but there was nothing. It was too black to see. He came up for air again, and looked around. This time he saw what appeared to be someone floating in the water.

"Sano," he whispered. He began swimming toward the figure. Even when he was only halfway there, he could tell this wasn't his friend. It was a young boy. Kenshin shivered, more from the coincidence than the cold. _Wasn't that the reason they'd wound up down here in the first place? Because he'd flashed back to that boy drowning? Was he hallucinating now?_

Hallucination or not, Kenshin had no way to find Sano, and this boy needed help. Quickly, he finished swimming over, put an arm around the boy's waist, and swam to the shoreline. To Kenshin's relief the boy was alive, already starting to cough and sputter as soon as there was land under him. He tried to sit up.

Kenshin gently held him down. "You should stay still for a moment and catch your breath," he said, "that you should."

The boy's eyes opened and he looked at Kenshin. "You're that swordsman," he murmured. Then he blinked a couple of times before shaking his head. "But you look different." The boy was starting to shiver badly, and his teeth were chattering.

Kenshin just stared at him for a moment before asking, "Are you alright? You should get home to your family. Get warm."

The boy wouldn't make eye contact with him. "I don't have anyone left here. You know that. That's why I was gonna…" He trailed off and looked away.

Kenshin just stared at the boy, worry starting to eat away at him. Something wasn't right here.

The boy stood, and this time Kenshin didn't try to stop him. This was the same boy from his memory. The same bridge. Kenshin looked up at the moon and paled. _"What is happening to me?"_ he wondered. The moon had been full when Sano had pointed it out. Now it was suddenly a crescent? He closed his eyes and held his head. This had never happened to him before. Even when he'd faced Saito and his mind had drawn him into a battle from the revolution, he'd never started seeing the world change around him. Had the strain of trying to control his darker side finally caused him to snap?

Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut and willed it away. This wasn't possible. When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. Same bridge, same moon. But now the boy was gone. And Sanosuke was still missing. He sat for several minutes, unsure of what to do. For the first time in ages, Kenshin was truly afraid, but not for the ordinary reasons. He knew the dangers of the streets of Revolutionary Kyoto. But, also, although it had been over a decade, he still knew how to disappear into the night. No, it wasn't death he was afraid of. It was Kyoto itself. It was the hitokiri inside of him that would relish at this turn of events if given even the slightest chance. It was the fact that he very well may have finally gone crazy. Because how else did one fall into a river, and then come out over a decade earlier? Had suppressing the killer finally pushed him over the edge? If that were the case, then let the Shinsengumi come. It was better to die here than live and be a danger to everyone…

He looked back up at the moon for a long moment before standing. No. It was this thinking that had almost forced his shishou to destroy him. There was always a reason to live. As long as he could remember that, the killer would sleep. Kaoru, Yahiko, Sano and Megumi. They were his reasons. As was his oath to Sakura, Akane and Kasumi… and to Tomoe.

Then another wave of fear washed over Kenshin, as realization struck. _How far back had he gone? Was she… could he stop himself…?_ Kenshin sprang to his feet. He had to figure out what exactly was going on. Because if he really _had_ somehow gone back in time, maybe there was a reason… He began to run, taking only a moment to be sure that his sakabatou was still at his side. Now, more than ever, it was vital that he carried that sword. He'd need to be able to defend _himself_ for a change. And with a regular katana, here of all places, it would be too easy to kill.

Back up near the bridge, he paused, trying to decide where to go. If he entered the city, he risked meeting up with the Shinsengumi, or even some of the Ishin-shishi, which would lead him back to Katsura-san, and possibly his younger self. Kenshin shivered. He wasn't sure if he could face the young Battousai. He had a hard enough time facing himself now. He looked around. Of course, if he stayed here much longer, he was risking the same results. That left only one option… and it really didn't please him any better. Kenshin sighed, and began running toward the woods. A worried smile played at the rurouni's lips. _I'm sorry, Shishou, that I am. It looks like I will once again be bringing my troubles to you instead of your souvenir..._

* * *

 _1879_

Sano trailed behind the hitokiri as closely as he dared. He remembered firsthand Kenshin's ability to read distant ki, and he wasn't sure where Battousai's skills lay. According to oldrevolutionaries like Saito and Okubo, his skills had been stronger… more impressive. According to Kenshin, they were simply more deadly. Sano had never known his friend to lie. He kept his distance.

Battousai was becoming agitated. That much Sano could tell. It was late, and the streets were deserted, but even in this lonely dark, it was obvious that this wasn't the Kyoto Battousai had expected. At first, the young man had kept to the shadows completely, making it almost impossible for Sano to keep track of him, but as things looked more and more unfamiliar, Battousai's actions had become irregular. Finally, he stopped in front of an old, run-down inn. Clearly it was deserted, and for the first time since Sano had pulled him out of the water, the young man seemed uncertain, hesitating just outside of the door as though afraid of what he may or may not see inside. After another moment's hesitation, he finally went in.

Sano waited a minute before following.

He should have waited longer. Battousai stood in the center of the room staring around in horror. Old newspapers and dead leaves littered the inside of the inn. It didn't seem to have been abandoned too long, maybe a year at most, but for someone who had probably just seen this place bustling with activity a few hours earlier, it had to be terrifying, and Sano couldn't help but feel bad for the young man. The sudden shift in Sano's ki managed to break through Battousai's confused thoughts and he spun on Sano.

Before Sanosuke could even move, the katana was drawn, and Battousai was bearing down on him. He recognized the Ryu Tsui Sen immediately, and the only thing that saved him was his familiarity with Kenshin's moves. Sano managed to dodge the attack at the last moment and roll into the shadows, not that he really believed that darkness could hide him from a hitokiri.

Oddly, Battousai didn't strike a second time, but his narrowed eyes held a dangerous, almost desperate glint as he stared through the darkness directly into Sano's own eyes. "You're a spy, then," he said, his voice as hard and cold as his blade. "Where are the Ishin-shishi? Where is Katsura-san?"

It took Sano a moment to realize that Battousai was talking to him and not killing him. His breathing regulated a bit, but his heart was still racing. Normally a good fight brought adrenaline. But this was suicide. "Kenshin…" he started. "I'm not a spy!"

Battousai slowly sheathed his sword, and Sano breathed a sigh of relief. Until he realized that the hitokiri had only changed stances. "The hell you aren't," Battousai said softly, readying himself for a Battou-jutsu attack. "I will ask you one final time, and then I'm afraid I will have to kill you. Where is Katsura-san?"

Sano winced. "He's dead, Kenshin. He's been dead for almost six months now."

"You're lying!" Battousai's attack was even faster this time, and Sano barely managed to get out with a shoulder wound.

"Kenshin, listen to me!" he yelled, trying to get through to him. "It isn't the revolution anymore. I don't know when you came out of, or how you got here, but it'sMeiji and the fighting is over."

Battousai didn't answer, but his attack was slower, and Sano managed to dodge it. _He hesitated,_ Sano realized. He hadn't expected it, but Battousai actually seemed to be considering his words.

Sano took advantage of that fact. "The revolution ended over a decade ago."

Kenshin didn't strike again, but was clearly preparing to do so. Only an intense internal struggle seemed to be keeping the attack at bay.

"I know it sounds crazy. Hell, I thought _I'd_ gone crazy when I realized who you are, but it's true. If you don't believe me, look down. The newspaper at your feet. Read the date." For a moment, Sano was afraid Battousai would refuse and just kill him as a spy, but finally the young man bent, and picked up the paper, his sword hand still ready to draw his blade if the need be. Sano didn't move a muscle. He hardly breathed, just watching the young man. So, this was hitokiri Battousai. This was what Kenshin had been. The gentle man he knew had been terrifying once. And so far, Sano had only faced him when the boy was confused and hesitant. Sano shuddered to think what he would have been like otherwise. For once he had to agree with Saito Hajime. The rurouni wasn't what he once had been. But unlike Saito, Sanosuke found that realization to be a great comfort.

The paper slipped from Battousai's hands and gracefully spilled onto the floor. His face was still in shadow, and Sano couldn't read his expression, but he understood. Everything seemed to have gone out of the hitokiri. His shoulders fell and he released the sheathed katana, allowing his hand to drop to his side. He looked around again, really seeing the inside of the inn for the first time. No one had been there for ages. He walked slowly around the room, staring at it, running his hand across the wall, finally taking in the changes. He stopped near Sano, pressing his fingers onto a faded scar in the wood. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I did this last night. A spy entered the inn, and I had to kill him. The blood was everywhere. Okami couldn't get it out." He touched a rust colored spot near the gash. "The blood is still here, but it's faded so much. I guess time can wash some of the blood away…" He trailed off.

There was a long pause before Kenshin continued. "Katsura-san is dead?" For the first time, he looked up at Sano. His face was still unreadable, but his voice was finally betraying emotion.

Sano nodded. "I'm sorry, Kenshin. I know he was your commander. Was he also your friend?" A hard question for Sano to ask. It had never occurred to him that Kenshin had to deal with Katsura's death just as Sano had grieved for Captain Sagara.

"He understands… understood," Battousai replied, shortly. He paused. "Over a decade? Then Battousai must be gone as well. I don't belong in this era." He leaned with his back against the wall, his hand still touching the faded cut in the wood.

"Kenshin…"

"Why do you call me that?"

Sano blinked at him. "It's your name, right?"

"It is the name I was given. But no one calls me that. I am Battousai. Hitokiri Battousai. Himura Battousai. No one calls me Kenshin. No one has in a long time."

Sano didn't respond right away. It had been easier understanding this man when they'd been fighting. "I know you as Himura Kenshin. You asked me not to call you Battousai."

"I asked you…" The youth sounded as though he were trying the words out. He couldn't seem to comprehend this. "I'm still alive? And I asked you… And… you agreed. You don't call me Battousai… in this era…"

Sano looked at the boy next to him. They were the same age, but this Kenshin suddenly looked so young. Like a child who had just woken from a nightmare, and still didn't trust that he was truly awake.

"Meiji," Sano said. "The Meiji era."

"Meiji."

"Kenshin?"

Battousai looked at him. "And you use a familiar tone with me? Have I known you long?" He sounded so confused.

Sano stared at him. "We're friends. That's all."

"Friends."

Sano didn't like the way he had repeated that word as though it were as foreign as "Meiji."

"You shouldn't call me 'Kenshin,'" Battousai said. "'Kenshin' is the name given to a swordsman. A murderer shouldn't bear that name. I am Battousai. Himura Battousai. I'm sorry, Sagara Sanosuke, but I don't know you."

"I won't call you Battousai," Sano growled. "We're friends because you _aren't_ Battousai anymore. I can't call you that."

"You have a grudge against me." Oddly, Battousai seemed more comfortable with that than the idea of friendship.

Sano shook his head. "I have a grudge against the Meiji government. I have a grudge against the Ishin-shishi. I have a grudge against the people who betrayed us and killed Captain—" He broke off, realizing that Battousai didn't need more baggage to deal with. "It isn't you. It's the name Battousai. What it stands for. That's all."

Battousai was watching him critically. "I see. Now it makes sense," he said softly.

Sano looked at him, unsure if he liked Battousai's tone. "What makes sense?"

"The brand on your back. The name Sagara. You're part of the Sekihou-tai."

Sano tensed, knowing full well the lies people had told of the captain and his army. "I didn't realize that even the hitokiri knew—"

"Everyone knows now," Battousai cut in. "I've heard Katsura-san talk. When you don't say much, you hear more. He wasn't happy with the way the Sekihou-tai was treated. I know little about it, but I know enough." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your army was used by the Ishin-shihi. I know what it feels like to be used by them." If possible, his eyes grew even colder in his stony mask. "Another reason I can't believe I will live to see Meiji."

"Of course you live. They wouldn't dare try to get rid of you. You're not like—" He broke off again, realizing how close he'd come to saying Shishio Makoto's name. Sanosuke may not have always been credited with having the most brains, but even _he_ realized that some things should remain unsaid. "Like us…" he finished feebly. "They wouldn't kill you like they killed us."

Something closed behind Battousai's eyes, and the few minutes of talking were over. The hitokiri had taken control again, and the confused boy had been suppressed. "I must find a way back. I can't stay here."

"Doesn't look like you have much of a choice right now. You can't just go wandering around Kyoto with that katana. Not with the sword ban."

"Sword ban?" Automatically, Battousai clutched his weapon. "I don't belong here. I have to go." He looked confused again, although this time, Sano noticed that there was something unsteady about him as well.

"Kenshin?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

Battousai didn't answer, but he was pale. He backed away. Between the damage the river had done to him, and now his confused mental state, Battousai's body finally gave out on him, and the young man collapsed.


	3. Encounters

_1865_

Kenshin burst into the clearing and stopped. It was just as he'd remembered it. He hadn't realized how little his shishou had changed things until now. The only difference was that the kiln was missing, and there was a small garden to the side. He slowly walked to the edge of the shadows, mesmerized by the sight. He could remember training here. Learning to garden over there. Listening to Shishou recount the past right there. Many of the memories weren't so comforting. Shishou was a hard and demanding man. But he was the closest thing Kenshin had to memories of a father. Hiko had taught him how to live. Not just survive, although he'd learnt that as well, but to actually _live_ and appreciate life. Kenshin winced, realizing now how his acts as an assassin must have looked to his shishou.

Out of nowhere, a quiet voice spoke. "Have I finally made myself worthy enough to be Hitokiri Battousai's target?" The ever-present sarcasm and arrogance were clear, but for the first time Kenshin noticed how harsh the cynicism sounded in such a young voice.

Kenshin turned to see his Shishou sitting on a log, not far from the small shack. As usual, there was a jug of sake in his hand. That, however, wasn't what drew Kenshin's eyes. Hiko Seijuro, like Kenshin, had always appeared younger than his years. But it was still was strange for the rurouni to see his shishou _this_ young again. This Hiko was hardly older than Kenshin.

At Kenshin's lack of response, the tall man stood and sent him a dark look, hanging the sake at his hip. "I take it that's why you've graced me with your presence."

Kenshin bowed his head. Somehow, no matter how old he was, Hiko could make him feel like a child. He bowed humbly, and spoke in a soft voice, "I have no intention of fighting you, Shishou, that I do not. I already know how that battle would end. I have need of your assistance."

Hiko narrowed his eyes at the man standing in the shadows before him. "I have no interest in assisting a killer. I should never have taught you Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Leave." Hiko walked to the shack, his white and red cloak snapping behind him as he brushed by Kenshin.

That, Kenshin had expected. He'd already had to deal with Hiko's anger when he'd first returned to finish his training. Not that this fact made the words hurt any less. "Shishou, I do not wish to trouble you, but I have no one else I can turn to." He followed.

Hiko froze in the door, and, without turning, said in a hard voice. "I do not deal with Battousai."

"I am no longer Battousai," Kenshin burst out, just before Hiko could close the door on him. "Let me explain, please. I have not killed in over ten years, that I have not. I am a rurouni now."

"Impossible," Hiko snorted, spinning on Kenshin to finally face the boy who had left him. "Ten years ago, you began training with—" The words died in his throat as he finally _looked_ at flame haired man before him. For the first time in years, his baka deshi managed to take Hiko Seijuro by surprise. This was no seventeen-year-old boy. And those weren't the eyes of an assassin. They were the eyes of a grown man who had seen too much in his short life. It was like looking into a mirror at his own soul. "Ten years…" The words slipped out without him meaning to say them, but what could he say? Hiko closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow. "Impossible," he whispered again. He hadn't even been drinking that much sake…

"Shishou?"

Hiko didn't open his eyes, but his hand went up to his head, and he looked very much like he had a headache. He motioned sharply with his other hand. "Go in."

Kenshin entered and knelt on the floor.

Hiko closed the door and, exchanging his empty sake jug for a fresh one, sat in front of this stranger whom he'd decided must be a sake-induced hallucination. There was no other way to explain it. At least no other way he wished to contemplate. He'd had a hard enough time dealing with the boy. Especially when Hiko had allowed him to be fed to the wolves. He didn't wasn't sure if he could handle seeing what they'd done to him. Kenshin was alive. Would be alive, even in ten years. But had he _survived_? That, Hiko didn't know. He pulled out two cups and poured each of them some sake. He had a feeling they were going to need it.

* * *

_1878_

Voices were fading in and out of his hearing. He didn't recognize any of them. No, that wasn't true. The man sounded familiar, but even that wasn't certain. He was lying down. Why? He never slept that way. And his body felt heavy. He didn't move right away, trying to make sense of this. A strange dream he'd been having tugged at the back of his mind. Something about the Sekihou-tai… and a river… and a boy. Everything was swirling together in his mind.

He finally tried to move, but that only hurt. His muscles ached. And the wounds he'd received when he'd killed _her_ … Those wounds weren't fully healed yet, and they added to his discomfort. But pain was nothing new to him. At least he _could_ move. He stirred again. The voices came into focus all at once, startling him.

"Megumi-san! Is he alright?" It was a girl's voice. She sounded about his age.

A gentle hand rested on his forehead, and a woman's voice replied. "I told you he'll be fine. Why don't you listen, Kaoru? He has a high fever, and _that_ can be dangerous if we don't watch him. But he should be alright soon." The woman's voice was soothing somehow. Her hand gently brushed damp hair off of his forehead.

"And _you_ , why didn't you _help_ him?" The girl was railing on someone else now. "He falls in the river and winds up with a fever all because you were involved in some stupid fight again!"

"Hey, Jou-chan, did you miss the fact that _I'm_ sick, too. Not to mention that I'm wounded?" a man responded.

_Sagara_. The name came easily. This was the man from the Sekihou-tai. So, the dream wasn't over.

" _You_ don't have a fever, and Megumi-san said that Kenshin's got a lot more injuries!"

" _What?"_ There was a sound of someone moving closer. He felt his gi gently pulled back by the woman's hands, and heard the sharp intake of air before Sagara whispered, "What happened to him?"

"You mean, you really don't know?" the girl asked, sounding uncertain now.

"Of course he doesn't, Kaoru," the woman said. "These wounds are months old. They've just never healed properly, and now he's reopened them. Maybe by saving a certain someone who shouldn't have been fighting by the river?"

Sagara began defending himself, again. By now Battousai was sure the situation was not a dream, and he forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry and he had to blink a few times to see what was going on around him. No one was looking at him. The girl, Kaoru, was hitting Sagara over the head with a bokken, while the woman called Megumi-san yelled at her for attacking her patient.

Battousai sat up, holding his head as a wave of dizziness swept over him. If Sagara was real, then the rest must be, too. This was still Meiji.

Suddenly a bright, young voice from behind him cried out, "Hey, Himura's awake!"

He turned immediately to see another, even younger-looking girl with a long braid beaming at him. "Ha!" she said brightly. "I told them you wouldn't be out long! Not you!"

The others froze and four sets of eyes were suddenly focused on him. Battousai tensed. Who were these people? More of Sagara's friends? _Am I supposed to know them?_

"Kenshin!" Kaoru cried, tears in her eyes.

_Tears for what?_

She stood up, dropping the bokken and hurried over to him, brushing off Sagara's frantic attempt to stop her. Before he knew what was happening, this girl had dropped to her knees, and thrown her arms around him. She sounded like she was still crying.

Battousai stiffened, using all of his willpower to force back his automatic wish to shove her away. She kept whispering his name. "Kenshin, I was worried. You were so sick…"

His eyes had grown wide, and still he hadn't loosened up. He looked toward Sagara for some help. If she held on like this much longer, he was going to have to push her off and leave. He couldn't take contact like this.

"Kaoru," Sagara was saying. "Maybe you should get off of him and let him breathe."

"Kenshin?" She finally seemed to realize that something was wrong. Her tearful blue eyes stared up at him. "What is it?"

He looked away and didn't answer. Maybe she'd just leave if he ignored her. At least maybe she'd let go. The last one who had held him like that had been… he'd _killed_ … He glanced back at her, without meaning to.

He heard the startled cries before he even realized that he'd pushed the girl to the floor and had leapt to his feet, reaching for his sword. It was gone. What had they done with it? He backed against the wall, trying to get some distance, knowing that he'd reacted poorly. But he'd seen Tomoe in that girl's face for a moment, and it had terrified him. He didn't ever want anyone to look at him like that again. With that look of trust and… He blocked the thoughts, feeling like a cornered animal, trying not to lash out like one. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't think straight. His head hurt, and he felt weak, which only made him more tense.

Sagara slowly advanced. "Kenshin," he said softly. "It's okay, Kaoru shouldn't have jumped on you like that when you're sick, but she was worried. She's your friend, Kenshin. Just like the rest of us. We're your friends. You don't have to be afraid."

Battousai scowled, his eyes narrowing into a glare that stopped Sagara in his tracks. "I'm not afraid, Sagara." _The hell he wasn't, but_ they _didn't need to know that._ "Just don't let her touch me. I don't want to hurt her. Not again." He shook his head. _What was Tomoe doing with these people anyway? Were they_ all _dead? Maybe. Hadn't the entire Sekihou-tai been slaughtered last week? Maybe that's why he felt so lightheaded. And so hot. Was this hell? Then why was Tomoe there? Just to torture him?_

The wall was no longer lending him enough support to remain standing. He felt too heavy, and it was hard to focus on anything. The last thing he was aware of was Sagara catching him as he slumped forward.

And the sound of Tomoe crying.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading!_ __


	4. Discussions

1865

Hiko sat in front of the man, and watched in amusement as he quickly drank the cup of sake. Hiko refilled it, not quite sure why he'd found that so interesting. If this really was his baka deshi, then the boy had better be able to drink. He'd been practically raised on sake. But how could this be the boy he trained? He was older. That much was certain. This man was different, and it unnerved Hiko, because he wasn't sure what to make of him. His violet eyes seemed as clear and bright as the day Hiko had first taken him in, but at the same time they were unfathomable. Hiko couldn't read him at all. He could only sit and make guesses. This man, this older Kenshin, seemed frighteningly like him in all the ways that mattered. Hiko could almost predict his actions, not by reading his ki, but by predicting his own reactions.

"Kenshin?" He had to ask. There was no one else he could be. Not with that hair, and those eyes. But Hiko had to hear him say it.

Kenshin nodded shortly. His voice was soft and gentle. "I know this is strange, that it most certainly is. But I need help. I don't know what has happened to me, and you are the only one I thought could help. Kyoto is too dangerous here… now. I might kill again."

Hiko drank his third cup of sake, and finally tossed it down, this time drinking directly from the jug. The cup wasn't doing much for him. "How old are you?" he asked, before drinking some more.

Kenshin blinked in surprise, his cup halfway to his mouth. "Oro? Thirty. Why?"

Hiko choked, nearly dropping the jug, and inhaling as much sake as he'd swallowed. He began coughing, as Kenshin stared frozen in shock. Finally, after a few moments of coughing, he shot a look at the redhead before him. "Thirty? You're almost my age…" He caught himself gaping at his baka deshi, and forced himself to drink more sake instead. He was right when he'd assumed they'd need this. He just hoped he had enough in the house.

"Shishou?" Kenshin asked, looking worried.

"Don't look at me like that."

"But you just choked! Should you be-"

"I'm fine," Hiko snapped. "I don't know why I let you in here. Whether you're Battousai now or not, you left me. I don't owe you anything."

Kenshin bowed his head again. "I'm not saying you owe me, that I am not. But-"

"What's with all this 'that I am,' 'that I'm not' talk?" Hiko interrupted, irritated. "You never used to do that before. I don't know if I could have taken it if you did."

"Shishou, you aren't helping. I need to know what's going on!" Annoyance flashed in Kenshin's eyes.

Hiko smirked, drinking his sake. "You're angry. Good. If we're going to get anything figured out, you need to stop with the obsessive humility and make yourself useful."

"Shishou!" Kenshin started.

"Hiko Seijuro. Drop the 'Shishou' for now," Hiko snapped. "My baka deshi is fourteen years younger than me, not one. I can't think of you like that when you're this old. We're practically contemporaries." He closed his eyes, trying not to lose his temper. This situation was too much. "I am Hiko. You are Kenshin. For now."

Kenshin said nothing, but he nodded.

"Here." Hiko stretched and grabbed two more sake jugs. He tossed one to Kenshin. "You're probably going to need it as much as I do by the time we're done." He opened his. "Now, what exactly are we trying to figure out? How you got here? How you leave?"

"Is there a purpose?" Kenshin said softly.

Hiko's left eyebrow twitched in irritation, and he drank. "A purpose? Why is there always a 'purpose' with you? Was there a purpose when those bandits attacked you? Is there a real purpose to this war? You're still an idealist, baka."

Kenshin blinked at him. "I thought I'm not your 'baka deshi,'" he said, a trace of frustration creeping into his voice.

"You aren't, but anyone can be a baka, and that's what you're being right now. What purpose do you see to this? A thirty-year-old man thrown back into his blood-thirsty youth... Will you fight the revolution without killing?"

"I can fight without killing. I've done it for ten years," Kenshin finally snapped, unsheathing his sword.

Hiko's eyebrow raised again. "A sakabatou. Interesting. But I know your skills. If you wanted to, you could still kill with it, so don't evade the question. What would your purpose be?"

Kenshin lowered his eyes, sliding the sakabatou back into its sheath. "To protect someone, perhaps."

Hiko snorted. "You entered this war to protect people. I've heard rumors far and wide of your protection. You need to stop saying the same things with different words. Who would you protect in a revolution without killing? Unless you're thinking of that girl of yours…"

Kenshin visibly paled, and Hiko knew he'd hit a nerve. Kenshin looked positively sick.

Hiko almost felt bad for him. "So, it is her."

"How do you know about her?" Kenshin whispered. "About Tomoe?"

Hiko sent him a dark glare. "Do you really think I was going to let my baka deshi out with his skills and not at least keep track of him?"

Kenshin's eyes widened a fraction. "You… kept track of me?"

Hiko drank more sake, his eyes glued on the jug. "About Tomoe…" he prompted.

"Yes… I…" Kenshin looked pained. "I made my vow not to kill because of her. She… somehow she could see past Battousai. She saw me… and helped me live again. And I killed her. She tried to protect me when I was ambushed, and…she moved in front of my blade. I didn't even see her until it was too late. I swore to never kill again when the revolution ended, in her memory."

Hiko watched the man before him, knowing that feeling. That feeling that someone had died whom he could have saved. Hiko had felt that before, too, when he thought he'd left a small boy to die. But he'd been given a second chance. He'd needed that boy to live. And it hurt him to realize that, whether or not this man before him wanted to believe it, Kenshin had needed Tomoe to die. He needed someone to see worth in him and willingly die for him, because for some reason, Hiko had never been able to drill a value for his own life into that boy's skull.

"So, you would destroy what you are to save her?" he growled. "You'd change the history of Japan and destroy any meaning your life may have gained to save her?"

"Yes." His voice was hardly a whisper.

Kenshin had loved her. Hiko hadn't known that until now. That would make things harder.

"Then tell me, Kenshin. If you'd been flung back far enough to save those three women from the bandits, would you have?"

Kenshin looked up, straight into Hiko's eyes for the first time in a long time. "What?"

"You heard me," Hiko snapped. "Would you save them? Would you step in before I could get there and save their lives? Erase hitokiri Battousai from existence? Erase your training with me? Erase your part in the revolution? Erase having ever met Tomoe?" He set his sake jug down, and watched the smaller man critically. "Would you do it?"

Kenshin was silent for a long moment before answering.

"No." The word was hard for him to say. "I needed that training. I've done too much since the revolution ended. I've helped people. I can't trade one set of lives for another. Kasumi, Akane and Sakura would forgive me, I hope."

"But you would do it for Tomoe?"

Kenshin didn't answer.

"From what you've said, she helped you bury the hitokiri. How many more lives would you have taken without your no-kill oath? Think."

Kenshin poured more sake, and drank, finally agreeing.

Hiko nodded, setting another empty sake jug down. "She died six months ago, Kenshin. You couldn't have saved her anyway, if it's any consolation." He sighed, watching the scarred man before him. "Honestly, I thought another death like that might break you. For once it's nice to be wrong."

Kenshin's eyes flashed a deep violet before hardening with resolve. Grief had been visible in his eyes for a second before he'd masked it. Kenshin bowed his head. "Thank you… Hiko."

There was an awkward moment, as the two men drank quietly, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Hiko broke the silence. "We need to figure out how you got here, so I can get rid of you," he said gruffly. He motioned to the several empty jugs littering the floor already, a smirk playing at his lips. "I don't know if I can afford you, now that you've learned to hold your sake."

At that Kenshin laughed softly.

Hiko relaxed. Good. At least he can still smile. He didn't think he really wanted the boy to turn out like him. This decaying world could use a touch of what had made this boy survive.  
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1878

When Battousai woke up again, it was dark, and the crowd was gone. He blinked a few times, trying to get some idea about his surroundings, but his mind was still a bit fuzzy, and that irritated him. As a hitokiri, he always had to be focused. He was lying on his back on a futon with a blanket carefully placed on him. He felt a little warm, and his muscles ached, but other than that, he seemed to be okay.

His eyes scanned the dark room. It looked somewhat familiar from a nightmare he remembered having. Apparently parts of that dream had been reality, along with the Meiji era and Sagara. He wondered if any of those other people had been real as well.

He bristled, suddenly sensing someone else's ki. Sagara was in the room with him. Battousai sat up, forcing his sore muscles to cooperate.

"How are you feeling?"

Battousai's turned and looked at the other man, sitting with his back against the wall next to his futon. "Sagara," he said, masking the surprise in his voice. "Why are you here?"

Sagara grinned. "At least you know who I am now. You had us all scared for awhile. Your fever got so high you were hallucinating."

Battousai's brow furrowed as he tried to remember his nightmare. People all around him. Sagara trying to placate him. And Tomoe crying… He shook his head to clear his mind. No. She had been someone else. Why had he called her Tomoe? He couldn't remember. Battousai looked up at the other man as worry set in. "Did I hurt that girl…?"

"Huh?" Sagara looked straight at Battousai and was surprised to see that the hitokiri looked concerned. "Kaoru? No. Why?"

"She was crying…" Battousai shook his head. "I remember her crying, but I can't remember why."

Sagara laughed, seeming relieved. "Oh, that. She was worried, that's all. That's Kaoru for you. Jou-chan is a tough one, but if she thinks you're hurt, she goes to pieces. And when you pushed her off… well, she just got more worried." He shrugged. When I finally got you back on the futon, she kept insisting on staying here with you all night. She was afraid you'd wake up disoriented again. I had a hard time convincing her to let me stay up. I figured you'd be better off with me. At least we've been introduced."

The redhead seemed to be trying to take this all in. "She shouldn't worry for me. I've chosen my life. I won't live long."

"Don't say that to her, Kenshin. It would kill her."

The stony mask was immediately in place again. "I told you not to call me that. I will not stain that name with blood. I am Battousai."

Sagara glared at him. "And I told you that I can't call you Battousai. If you don't like 'Kenshin,' then I'll call you 'Himura' like Misao does, but that's it. You'll have to deal with it."

There was a long pause before the youth spoke. "Himura will be fine. Katsura-san has called me that."

"Good." Sagara nodded. "But you're going to have to deal with them calling you Kenshin. They always have, and they won't understand why you suddenly refuse that name now. None of them met you as Battousai. They met you as a wanderer, a rurouni named Himura Kenshin. They'll get worried if you change your name on them now."

"Rurouni? You aren't making sense, Sagara."

"Yeah, a rurouni." The fighter winced. "You know, if I have to call you Himura, the least you can do is call me Sanosuke."

Battousai nodded, as though accepting an order. "Fine. Sanosuke." There was none of the friendly warmth behind the name that Kenshin usually lent it.

Sano sighed, realizing how difficult this was going to be. "Listen, Ken- Himura, those people you saw last night. I don't know if you remember any of them other than Kaoru, but they're all your friends." He smiled when Battousai's mask dropped for a moment and he blinked his wide blue eyes in surprise. "Misao, Kaoru, Megumi and me, we're all people who you've saved at some point or another. Even Yahiko. You didn't see him. The little brat was already asleep when we got in."

"Saved?" The boy's eyes narrowed and grew cold. This had to be some kind of sick joke. "People I saved? I was a hitokiri. A killer. I don't know how to save people. I kill. That is all. Even now, when I no longer officially assassinate, my protection involves killing attackers. And even under my protection, people die." Battousai looked away.

"God, Himura," Sano snapped, angered by the loss in Battousai's voice, by the frustrated tone that all but announced that this boy had been through hell and was giving up. "No one can save everyone all the time. Not even you!"

"Maybe not, but I killed her, Sanosuke. She was under my protection and it was my sword that killed her. What justice is that? What protection?" There was a flicker of amber deep inside those blue eyes, and a deadly anger touched the surface before being quickly suppressed.

Her? Was this the Tomoe he'd mentioned earlier? Sano didn't speak for a long time. That had been raw pain he'd seen in the youth's eyes. The first solid emotion to crack through the surface. A cold chill ran through him as he realized that Battousai's emotionless mask was more than just a place to hide behind when he had to kill. Something terrible had happened to him, and for the time being, that mask seemed to be all that was holding the youth together. And it was cracking. Sano took a deep breath. He didn't want to see that. He didn't want to see his friend break down. "I know you, Himura. You don't kill without a reason. And I can't believe that you did when you were a hitokiri either. If you did kill her, then…"

"There is no if, Sanosuke. My blade cut through her heart. Sliced straight through her with enough force to kill a man on the other side. I was wearing her blood. Do you need a more graphic description, or is that enough for you to understand? I killed her. And my reason? The reason you think I need? She got in the way." The boy was breathing hard.

Sano could see how difficult this was for him. Battousai was weak from his illness, and honestly was still sick. This discussion was only going to slow his recovery, and the boy couldn't afford that. This talk was going to have to wait. Sano looked out the room's large window at the pinks and lavenders of the early morning sky. "Forget it," he said softly. "What are we going to do about the others?"

Battousai turned to Sano, blocking his feelings again. "What are we going to do?" he repeated.

Sano nodded. "Yes, Himura. What are we going to do? You don't know these people that well yet, but they know you, and every single one of them cares about you. You're not going to get one step out of this room without someone trying to help you or give you medicine or something. And for some insane reason, they can't get it through their heads that you aren't their Kenshin. They're only seeing what they expect to see, I guess. And," he paused awkwardly, "well, honestly, they're afraid of Battousai. You've never been very comfortable talking about your past, so they've assumed the worst."

Battousai snorted. "There is only the worst."

Sano didn't argue that. He didn't know everything about Battousai's past either. But from what he already knew of this youth, he could see his friend flickering inside of him. Most obviously a moment ago, when Sano had finally realized something… Battousai didn't like to kill.

Battousai slid back a bit, so he could lean against the wall. He was looking pale again. Or was that just the early morning light?

"Himura?"

Battousai looked up stubbornly. "I'm fine. Go on. About them."

Sano watched his friend critically even as he answered. "It's just that… well, the friend I was buying sake with last night was you, Himura."

"I assumed as much," Battousai replied. "Considering your friends seemed to expect me to be with you."

"They're your friends, too," Sano snapped.

"Maybe they think so, but I don't know them. I have no friends."

Sano glowered at him. If he didn't know that even ill, Battousai could probably kill him, Sano would have considered hitting him. "I'm your friend, you baka," he finally snapped. "Don't you get that? Not just in your future, but right now. Do you think I'd have followed you into Kyoto, and nearly let you kill me just to be sure you were okay, if I wasn't? Sure, I'm friends with Kenshin in this time, but that means I'm friends with every part of him. I don't care what he was. He and I have dealt with that already. People change. In another ten years, when Kenshin is forty, I still intend to be friends with him, no matter who he is. And if I can accept that, then I like to think that I can handle being friends with the twenty-year-old brat he was a decade ago."

"Seventeen."

The dark-haired fighter glanced over at the youth. "What?"

"I'm not twenty," he said. For the first time, Battousai's lips twitched into something almost resembling a smile. "I'm the seventeen-year-old brat he was a decade ago."

Sano just stared at him for a minute before finally laughing. "You're kidding! You mean you're actually younger than me?"

"I thought it didn't matter how old I was," the youth said softly.

Sano just grinned. "It doesn't. It's just that I usually forget that you're a decade older than me. It feels weird to know that you're actually younger than me, now." He glanced at the youth beside him and smirked. "You look fourteen."

A red eyebrow arched. "You said twenty before."

Sano shrugged, grinning more broadly now. "I just said that because I know you look young for your age. I figured you had to be older than that."

Battousai just sighed, and leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the brightening sky. For once the boy actually looked relaxed. As though he were finally understanding that the constant vigilance of the hitokiri was no longer so necessary here.

Sanosuke leaned back next to his friend, allowing his thoughts to wander. At least he'd smiled. Even if they hadn't accomplished anything else, Sano couldn't help but think that the weak smile that Battousai had managed was worth far more than any planning. That could come later. For now, it was enough if this boy could survive without shattering.  
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Author's Note: Well, here it is… Chapter 4. I appreciate all of the great reviews, and I appreciate you reading my story! This unworthy one hopes that Chapter 4 is as acceptable as the last few chapters seem to have been, that I most certainly do! Thanks for reading, please review, keep your eyes open for Chapter 5. And, as always… thanks for the discussions of the chapters when you review. That is so helpful to my writing! Sayonara!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I hope you liked chapter one of "Out of Time." Thank you so much for reading. I'm aware that this is a weird story, so please review. I'd love to know what you think!


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